There's no point in loving
or even liking
a girl like me.
A girl with gashes
on her thighs
and thin, white lines
up her arms;
who won't let you **** her
until you turn the lights off;
who you might lose
at the drop of a hat
because I'm not very good
at keeping myself alive.

My children will have a childhood.
I will make sure of it.
They will swim in ponds littered with Lilly pads
Dive down to muddy depths like fearless fish.
Sink tiny toes into slick black mud.
They will thrash strong tanned legs
Toward the gleaming surface above.
And **** deep breaths of country air.

They will slumber beneath the stars
To the sounds of bullfrogs and singing crickets
And the frenzy of flickering fairies of the night.
They will use glass wands of glitter
Just as a magician might
To hammer
All at once the warm dry earth
Sending grasshoppers springing
In startled unison-
Like magic
To escape the alien vibrations.

They will run barefoot through fields.
Drag behind them a ******* beast named
Ballou or Bear- or something like it.
He who leaps on four legs
And licks with pink tongue.

They will dance to songs
They do not understand.
And fashion forts from fallen brushwood.
They will swing from high up branches
Only climbers of trees can reach.

They will discover an island of trees
Some sweltering summer day
As they wade through waist high
Green grass that breathes along
With the erratic waving of the wind.
They will claim it as their own.
They will name it Sail Away or- something like it.
And ***** a flapping flag of dishtowel and twig.

They will pull from backpacks
Granola bars and beef jerky
And gulp water from their base camp.
And return only when it is too dark
And they are too weary
To embark on any more adventures.
My children will have a childhood.
They will have one because I did.

I couldn’t get out of bed today,
my homework from yesterday lays unfinished,
eyeliner smeared on my eyelids
because I couldn’t perk up the motivation
to even wash my face last night.
But, as I scroll down my Facebook newsfeed,
I wonder if I’m doing depression wrong.
Four statuses about how people “can’t take anymore,”
two selfies of themselves crying,
a picture of someone’s cuts.
Each post filled with supportive comments,
of how things with get better if they keep trying.

I used to weigh eighty pounds,
the enamel on my teeth is eroded
from heaving up the heaviness haunting me
every second after I ate.
I hear girls talking about how they “wish”
that they had an eating disorder
so boys will carry them around,
so they’ll have a thigh gap.
Every time it causes a relapse,
and I don’t feel as perfect as people say I should
when I’m laying in a hospital bed.

Though you may claim to be so depressed
because you failed your math test,
or to be completely anorexic
because you skipped lunch today,
this is not mental illness.
Mental illness is
lying to those who love you most
about when the last time you ate was,
wearing long sleeves in the summertime,
failing your favourite classes
because even thinking about all the work gave you panic attacks,
having to bring a list of medications you’ve been on to every doctor’s visit
and explaining what each of the awful side effects did to you.

If you want attention buy a puppy,
call your grandma,
hug your sibling for christ’s sake.
Mental illnesses are not identities to assume
whenever they benefit you.

Stop looking at his Facebook profile. Seeing his posts tears your heart open again, especially when they're about you. You know that he is not worth your time.
2. Eat more. You need the nourishment. The number on the scale does not matter to anyone but you. Who cares if you went up from 102 to 108? No one.
3. Love yourself. There is nothing poetic or beautiful about getting ******* alone in your bedroom and stumbling drunkenly to the bathroom to cut yourself open.
4. Teach people how to treat you. Explain your boundaries. If someone doesn't respect them, cut them the *******. They don't respect you.
5. Take more baths. It may force you to look at your naked body, but the warm water calms you down.
6. Do your ******* homework. It may not matter after high school, but it matters now.
7. Stop giving your heart to boys that won't even give your their time. He may claim to love you in the dark, but during the day you're just another **** to him.
8. Pursue that guy. Yeah, you might get hurt. But it'll be a lot of fun in the meantime.
9. Stop acting like you're above high school activities. You have a year and a half left, make the most of it. (Even if it's buying a poofy dress you'll never wear again and going to Snoball with your best friend.)
10. Buy more red lipstick. You feel like you can do anything when you wear it, and you deserve to feel like that all the time.

I miss singing along
to ****** pop songs,
riding around,
thinking we were going to last forever.

I miss your family,
your little siblings
climbing all over me,
them viewing us as a unit that would always be a part of their lives.

I miss the safety,
when you'd calm me down
after  panic attacks,
thinking nothing would ever hurt me as long as you were there.

I do not miss you.

I know, from where you’re at in this,
things seem bright.
He’s treating you well,
expressing that he ****** up;
it for sure won’t happen again.

He’s texting you “goodnight beautiful”
every night before he goes to bed.
He’s telling his friends that you’re his girl,
you’re spending time with his siblings.
He’s buying you things,
he’s spending time with you.

I know,
I’ve been there.

I plead that you realize that it won’t always be like this.

Soon he’ll start blowing you off,
no call,
no answer.
If he hasn't already, he’ll start lying about where he is,
who he’s with,
who the girl he was talking to was.
You might found out.

But don’t confront him about it, oh no.
It’ll be all your fault.
You’re crazy.
You drove him to it.
It never happened, why are you demonizing him?
Or he’ll cry and say that he ***** everything up
and you can’t leave him, too.

I know that things seem good now.
I’ve been there.
If you got out now,
you’d really be dodging a bullet.
Don’t be like me.
Please recognise you deserve better than him,
that he doesn’t deserve you in the slightest.
He cheated on you once,
you know he’ll do it again.

You won’t ever listen to me, though.
I didn’t listen when I was warned.
I’m just a crazy ex, you know?
Just like he’ll tell you all of them are.
Every
single
girl
he’s ever been with.